Jami Celebrates 11

Whew, here we are at Thursday, again already. Last week I totally missed announcing a winner for the word contest, but only had the one entry, anyway. So congrats again to Lori, this week's winner and if I'm not too tired when I'm done writing this post, I'll put up another word. Otherwise, maybe we'll wait a week. Right now, it's October 11, and 11 years ago, right at this very time, I was getting ready for bed. I wouldn't sleep much that night. Even though I had my own apartment, I was back in my parents' house, actually in their guest room, sharing the foldout bed with M, as we'd done at many a sleepover. We had just steamed out the train of my gorgeous wedding gown and we were both giddy and excited, because the next morning, at 11 am, I would be getting married. Eleven years. Sounds like a looong time doesn't it? Eleven years ago, October 12, 1996 - the best day of my life until January 9, 2006 tied it (the first time we had Eddie). I made a real effort to remember that day and I do, I really remember so much. Picture me at 22, in my huge white princess dress, with my veil on and blusher down, standing on the stairs to our church's sanctuary. The organ played Canon in D while my best friends at the time (notable exception excluded, but that's a different story) strode down the aisle. I could see just two people in the very last pew. M, of course, the last to go before me, was about to step up and for a hideous moment, I thought I might puke from nerves. (Interesting side note - when I get really nervous, I am always certain that I am going throw up and faint, not necessarily in that order, but I never have. I mean, I've yakked, but not due to nerves and I've never fainted, ever. Each time though, I am sure this time I will do both.) It occurred to me that going up that last step, around the corner as the music changed to the Bridal March (I'm a traditionalist, sue me) that I would be crossing a Point of No Return. It is the same feeling you get when you aren't sure you really want to be on a scary-looking ride, after you're strapped in, but before they actually throw the switch. It's that "I probably can't even stop it now if I wanted to. But I don't, really. Probably" And then, the music changed, the congregation shifted in their seats, I could hear it and . . .I stepped out. The Husband stood, all the way down the aisle at the front, seemingly miles and miles away. And all my nerves were gone. Because I knew how right it was. Once I saw him, once I saw him see me, I knew. So I savored that walk up the aisle with my Daddy, because I love being the center of attention, of course, and because I wanted to enjoy that perfect rightness, the anticipation of our lives beginning. On the way back down the aisle at the end, I can tell you who I saw and who smiled or waved, but on the way up, I only saw the Husband. A beautiful ceremony followed. An incredibly fun reception. A lovely "after party" at my parents. A first night at a nice hotel. A fun and exciting honeymoon. And the rest of our lives so far. Eleven years - laughter, tears, great joy, painful loss, grand adventures, unbearable tedium, but mostly eleven years of love. Happy Anniversary, Love of My Life. I hope we have one-hundred-eleven more.